


Full Moon

by harper1611



Category: Original Work
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Other, Werewolves, theres not really a plot tbh its just a werewolf w their gf :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harper1611/pseuds/harper1611
Summary: A short study in the nature of lycanthropy.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7
Collections: Max's Haunted Palace 2020





	Full Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Based on prompt #5 from [Max's Haunted Palace!](https://maximit3.tumblr.com/post/630620037660786688/maxs-palace-is-hosting-a-multi-fandom-october)

“Don’t touch me,” Sam said irritably, moving her book aside slightly to swat at something in her lap. I vaguely felt the swat reverberate through to me, but I didn’t pay it any mind.

“I didn’t,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the TV.

“Yes,” she said, “you did.”

She threw a long furry shape into my lap, and I looked down from my controller to my lap in confusion at the sensation.

It was a tail.

_ My _ tail.

“Oh fu-”

“You forgot it was the full moon again, didn’t you?” she asked.

I distantly recalled groggily turning off my phone alarm this morning.

“I...may have forgotten, yes,” I grimaced, absently scratching the back of my neck, where I could already feel fur starting to grow in.

Sam rolled her eyes playfully and gave a dramatic sigh.

“Go grab your bag, I’ll drive.”

“You’re the best,” I said, giving her a quick peck on the top of her head as I got up.

I went to grab the bag I never really bothered unpacking between full moons - a change of clothes, a travel bottle of mouthwash, some antibiotic ointment and bandages. My family had worked out a pretty good system for the full moon, but it wasn’t foolproof. Wolves tended to roughhouse, well...pretty roughly. Surprising, I know.

By the time I came back out to the living room, Sam already had her shoes on and keys in hand. It was a bit of a drive out to the farm, and I was grateful she’d offered to take me. I was cutting it pretty close on time, and driving mid-transformation wasn’t exactly my idea of a good (or safe) time.

By the time we were in Sam’s little older model coupe, my feet were tingling and my shoes didn’t fit quite right. I peeled off both shoes and socks pretty much immediately, as Sam began guiding the car from city streets to backroads. I wiggled my toes, looking at the nails growing and curling into little cones. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it was pretty funky to watch. Bodies were kind of amazing that way.

“So when do you want me to pick you up?” Sam asked, glancing over at me.

I pursed my lips, wiggling in my seat a little as I tried to feel it out.

“I dunno, I think you could pick me up tomorrow morning,” I said.

“Really? You don’t need more time? I mean with it being Halloween and everything,” she asked.

“Hardy har har,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

“No I’m serious, I thought Halloween was like a power boost for mon- for supernatural people,” she said, correcting herself.

“You can say ‘monsters,’ I don’t care,” I reminded her gently.

“I know,” Sam replied sheepishly, “it just seems...kind of rude, though. But what about the Halloween thing?”

“Oh, that? No, I mean  _ I’ve  _ never noticed anything different about it,” I said, waving a hand. “I don’t really know how it affects other types of powers, though.”

I absentmindedly ran my tongue over my teeth, feeling how my canines had pushed out, as I watched the scenery wash past my window. We’d left behind ranch style homes and suburbs for cornfields and soybeans now, and I could practically feel the change in the air. Even now, I felt the itch to get out and just  _ run. _

The transformations had always ranged in their severity - sometimes I was only out of it for a few hours or half a night, other times I was gone for most of a week. For the most part it was usually just the one night though - after that, the itch was gone. Technically I didn’t even have to change at all if I really didn’t want to. But that was...uncomfortable. It was like trying not to sneeze, or not itching a mosquito bite. Sure, you  _ could, _ but god, it was torture. 

And once you transformed? It was like heaven. If my body didn’t change back on its own whenever it decided I was done, I don’t know that I’d ever do it willingly. Being a wolf was pretty great, all things considered. Obviously I loved my life with Sam, and my job was pretty decent and all that, but there was a primal simplicity to shifting. I mean hell, just look at a golden retriever. You think they’re stressed? They don’t even know what calendars are, never mind making their own doctor’s appointments. 

“How do you do it?” I asked, turning to Sam suddenly. “Being human all the time. Like how do you not break down if you never just like...get a break from it all?”

“How do you mean?” Sam looked at me quizzically, caught off guard by the question.

“I just mean, once a month I get to forget that I’m a person and just...go wild,” I said, unable to stop myself from smiling at the pun. “But what do you do, if you can’t let loose like that?”

“Hm. Well, a lotta people do drugs or drink, I guess,” she said thoughtfully, “or like...I don’t know. Hobbies, religion, that kinda thing.” She frowned, clearly concentrating.

I almost felt bad for asking - it seemed like it wasn’t something she realized she  _ could _ get a break from. Or that  _ I  _ could, at least. We sat in silence after that - I didn't want to risk making it worse, and Sam had that pensive look on her face that meant she wasn't going to let it go. I let her chew on it; I was too busy rolling the window down a crack to smell everything rushing past us. Sam’s rule was that I couldn’t stick my head out the window, but I figured just rolling it down a crack was fine.

Sam’s little coupe finally turned, rolling from rough pavement onto gravel, and began unmercifully jerking us around like a tin can on a string. She’d hardly slid the car into park before I was out the door, bag in hand, jogging towards the pens. I looked back over my shoulder at Sam, who stood leaning on the door as she watched me with a smile. I grinned back and gave a wave, never slowing my pace. I hoped she wasn't still upset, but on a deeper level, I'd already half forgotten the whole thing.

I could see a half dozen other cars parked around in the dying evening light, various friends and family who’d driven the rest of my relatives out here for the night. They usually stayed to talk for a while - it reminded me of Sunday morning church or a potluck. Sam said she actually liked talking to everyone, but I wasn’t sure how much of that was true and how much was a white lie to please me.

I gave a wave to Raul as I went by, and he gave a friendly nod in turn. It was his property we were on, namely the area to the left of his barn, where the eight-foot-high fenced pens that we rented out from him stood. I’m still not sure how my parents found him in the first place, but with what we paid him monthly, I could see why he was more than happy to let it continue. I guess for the right price, one night a month of spooking the horses was just fine by him.

I laid my bag by the entrance - I knew better than to bring it inside - and went to kick off my shoes before I realized I hadn’t even put them back on from the car. Once the transformation started, everything turned into an excited blur of wind and dirt and plants and birds and smells and sounds. As soon as I unlatched the gate, everything else simply faded to background noise. It was just me, my senses, and the dirt beneath my feet. 

It felt  _ perfect _ .


End file.
